Page 6 of More Than I Can Bear

I smiled then, feeling validated in my resentment. But hey, today’s news was lining the bottom of tomorrow’s bird cages. Once Adam came to grips with the fact that I wasn’t going to appear to let myself be swept away again, he’d move on to something bigger, better.

Someone better.

I frowned slightly, my finger going to the crease in my brow and smoothing it away. That was my plan, wasn’t it? To leave him to find someone who was comfortable standing there in the spotlight. I shook my head, bringing my focus back to the here and now, then walked over to Art Boy.

“So was there anything else I can get you?” I asked in my best dickhead whisperer voice. “We’re closing up now.”

“You are?”

Jesus, his voice was dark and rich, like a really good coffee. And when he stood, I was forced to look up, up, up to try and take him all in. He raked a hand through his hair and then collected his plate and coffee cup.

“I can get those,” I said.

“No, I’ve got it.” He walked his dishes over to the counter and left them there, picking up a damp cloth and, much to Amber’s amusement, cleaning off his table and the seats of his booth with a flick, before putting the cloth back where he’d found it. “Thanks for dinner, ladies.” But he didn’t look at the cook, Amber, as he said it. Instead he focused on me, holding my gaze for far longer than a chicken parmi and chips warranted. “It was amazing.”

We should’ve said thank you, come again, something, but the two of us just stared as he ambled out the front door. Amber shot me an incredulous look and then locked the front doors behind him as the two of us went to work.

I was going to miss the train. I cursed Art Boy over and over in my head as I swept the floor in quick precise strokes, then slicked the mop over it, removing all evidence of the customers who’d been through today.

“Freya, you can go,” Amber told me.

“Nope, nearly done,” I said, swirling the mop around tables and in between the booth seats.

“You’ll miss your train and I can’t drive you all the way out north,” she said.

I’d started working for Amber while I was still studying art at university and I’d stayed on, even when I was forced way out of the city centre to try and find somewhere that was affordable to live. It was nights like this that made me rethink my life choices, because I knew what I had ahead of me.

The train ride during the day wasn’t too bad. There were always some dodgy people in the carriages, but something happened after dark. During the daylight hours, people seemed to be more aware of others, less likely to engage in antisocial behaviour.

But all bets were off when night fell.

Some people seemed to be emboldened by the moon’s glow, screaming like animals in the dark, or acting like them. Dad was always muttering about the conditions on my side of the city, about the rise in homelessness, in crime, in every bad thing, but none of that was a help to me now.

If I rang my father, he’d come and get me. He’d told me to ring him if things like this happened, but instead I decided to hope for the best. I unlocked the door while calling to Amber that I was going, then slammed it shut behind me. Grabbing my keys in one hand and my phone in the other I started speed-walking across the car park towards the road. I hated the way my heart started pounding but I clutched my keys tighter between my fingers and kept one eye out for any trouble, while making sure not to look around me like I was nervous. Oh, the joys of being a woman. I took a deep breath. I was an adult. I should be able to make my own way home. I muttered something to that effect under my breath, letting my frustration fire my legs, forcing my stride to lengthen. Maybe the train would be late. I glanced at my phone, blanching when I saw the time, cursing myself for not having made the change and found work closer to home, grumbling that I wouldn’t, couldn’t afford an Uber. The cost would be the equivalent of a few good brushes, some new paint, a… My head jerked up as I heard the far-off rattle of the train coming down the tracks.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I stuffed my phone in my bag, holding it tight against me so it wouldn’t bounce around as I ran, and prepared to make a mad dash towards the station despite knowing for sure I’d never make it. My muscles tensed as I threw a quick glance in either direction to make sure I didn’t get skittled crossing the road. Then, right as I was about to launch into a run, a tall figure loomed up out of the darkness.

Art Boy.

“Jesus!” I yelped, shying backwards from him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Sorry!” Big hands went up and warned me off, but I was already backtracking. An Uber was fine, more than fine, I suddenly thought. “Shit, sorry, I… I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Not scared,” I growled, like my self defence instructor had taught me, shoving my house key further between two fingers, ready to stab at him if he got any closer.

“Yeah? OK, cool, cool…”

Jesus Christ, what was this guy’s deal? He was standing there like he was trying to chat me up at the pub, not approaching a woman on her own, at night, on a dark street.

“Look, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking…” Christ, had I been talking that loudly to myself? I frowned and then stared up at this massive man, trying to convince myself I had a chance if he attacked. “And…” His head whipped around as the blast of air brakes made clear the train had stopped.

The last train of the night.

“Fuck!” I cursed.

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